#what a fucking ending

[marvelvibess]

WHAT THE FUCK??????

[cemeterything]

are we still doing this because i have a late submission

[raineyraven]

listening to the ending of ulysses dies at dawn for the first time and im sitting here thinking damn. this is like if the lorax was a greek tragedy.

[ash-and-starlight]

humble contribution

[stil-lindigo]

when people reblog donation posts and say "donate what you can", I really feel like people aren't actually internalising it. not all of us can afford to donate $50, $100, more than that. but i know for a fact that there are thousands of us that can spare $2 or $5, and that all adds up.

it hurts so much to sit here and feel the limits of our own ability. we're not millionaires. we can't instantly fund these escape attempts. but these are bids for life, by people who never asked for the hellfire being rained upon them by sadistic colonialists, greedy for oil and land. they committed no crime other than being born in palestine. and of course it's unfair, to have to shoulder the weight of people's lives when we're all struggling to get by as it is. but our governments relentlessly fail us, they fail to scrape at the bottom of their cold dead hearts for their last dregs of humanity. it is so, so unfair, but it is up to the common man to save each other.

please. look at this spreadsheet. find a fund that resonates with you. and DONATE WHAT YOU CAN.

[amikoroyaiart]

Some 22 and 09 angst doodles

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

so in an attempt to actually use positive thinking, anytime i fuck up and my brain reacts as if ive cause a minor apocalyptic event, i compare my fuck up to the 4 minute fuck up committed by the crew of the uss william d porter.

and only today, as i was having to explain what happened to my mom when i was explaining the whole comparison thing, did i realise that most people dont know about it and ive decided that needs to change because its objectively hilarious.

...which is a weird thing to say about an event that occured on a warship in 1943, specifically november 14th.

see the uss william d porter was a fletcher-class destroyer but you dont need to know what that means, just that she had guns that went bang bang and that she was escorting another ship, the uss iowa, to cairo.

while they were on their way there, they performed some gun trials like testing the anti-aircraft guns or the torpedos. and while they were running a torpedo drill, the crew of the porter managed to fire a live torpedo straight at the iowa which you know, in terms of a list of things to do while escorting a ship, shooting a torpedo at them is not on that list.

especially if the president of the united states is on board.

yeah so fdr was on board and the gun trials were actually his idea, and part of the trials was that they were conducted under radio silence.

and that means the crew of the porter couldnt just call the iowa to be like "move out the way, we accidentally shot a torpedo at you."

but they did have signal lamps and you know, the signalman on board was trained to signal this exact kind of message.

...and uh never mind, the signalman did manage to successfully tell the iowa that a torpedo was coming toward them but wasnt as successful when it came to the direction the torpedo was coming from.

not all hope is lost though because the signalman could still use the signal lamp to correct his previous mistake and-, never mind, he announced that the porter was reversing, which she wasnt.

yeah so at catastrophic mistake number 3, they broke radio silence to warn the iowa and she managed to turn out of the way just in time which meant no one got hurt. and even though the inquiry into the incident led to chief torpedoman (fantastic job title btw) lawton dawson being sentences to hard labour, fdr intervened and waved away his sentence, saying it was all an accident.

but yeah, so thats my new measure for "how much did i really fuck up?" and when i compared accidentally picking up a pencil case without a tag on it in wilko, turns out it was a very minor fuck-up. yes, the cashier had to ask another worker to grab a duplicate so they could scan the barcode, but i didnt nearly kill the president during wartime via accidental friendly fire

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[lokh]

fake dating au where shuro ends up pretending to go out with laios in order to secure his inheritance.... but is it really what he wants? a journey of romance and self discovery that ill never ever write

[yanderespamton78]

Edit since a lot of people seem confused - your "real" name is the name that you want to be referred to in real life. It doesn't have to be your legal name. So if you're trans and you have a different name to whats on your birth certificate, even if not many people call you by the name, it still counts as your real name.

Edit 2 : Holy shit guys please stop reblogging this post my poor inbox im getting like 20 notifs an hour asjfhkajshdkh /lh /srs

[puppyeared]

these two are so interesting to me

characters belong to @canisalbus

[maicrowave]

you know, i thought dan and phil setting boundaries in 2014 was protecting them from us but i failed to acknowledge how much it was protecting us from them

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny the creepy child of the night

Okay, so we all know of the patented Fenton Child Neglect, and I just had a thought. Did Danny ever come to his parents in the middle of the night for any kind of help? Like, if he had a nightmare or if his stomach hurt in the unholy 3am in the morning kind of help. Because my guess is no, he didn't. He knew they were busy enough with their work, so he didn't want to disrupt their rest.

He probably went to Jazz, and she helped him, of course, like a good sister she is, right. But then, somewhere around 8 or 10 y.o. he would have realized that, well, Jazz has classes in the morning. Also, she does a lot of other stuff, she cooks, she keeps their bills in check, and she helps him with homework. She also needs her rest at night.

So I imagine Danny, who woke up because of a bad dream, just silently standing over his sleeping sister in the darkness of her room, trying to figure out if his little child problem is enough to justify waking her up. Most of the times the answer is no. He can deal with it by himself. He is 10, and he doesn't really need any help calming down after a nightmare. It's okay.

It's even worse after the Accident. Even though his problems are not just bad dreams anymore, and even if Jazz knows, he still doesn't wake her up when he needs to patch himself up after a ghost fight. Jazz needs her rest. He can manage on his own. Despite knowing this, he still comes to her room sometimes, even more silent than before with his newly acquired powers, and just stands there. Looking at his sister, who is sleeping peacefully. Debating if it would be okay to wake her up to help him with the cut on his arm or a burn on his thigh or the hit to his head that made him dizzy.

He never ends up waking her.

Now, fast forward a few years, Danny is now living with Waynes. Doesn't matter how or why, could be the Bad Ending with Fentons, or he is Damian's long lost twin, whatever, he is living with the Batfam now.

So one time Danny wakes up at night because of a nightmare, and he does exactly what he is used to doing for many years, he goes looking for someone. After all, just looking at sleeping Jazz used to calm him down somewhat, sure his new family won't mind if he just... watches them for a few minutes before going back to his room, right?

Wrong.

Turns out his eyes are glowing just slightly because of the adrenaline rush of the nightmare, and the Bats are a lot more vigilant to their surroundings while sleeping.

The whole house is quickly awake because of the screaming and the sounds of fighting and cursing.

[madhatter1496]

[theharlotofferelden]

“Gale is so boring” he had a emotional and sexual relationship with a goddess and was so down bad for her that he tried to reclaim a small aspect of her power just to please her and in doing so ended up with a magical bomb in his chest yet that doesn’t keep him from being a kind, slightly condescending, enthusiastic malewife nerd who thinks your dirty ass smells good GET OUT OF MY HOUSE

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Oh I realized a thing about the Paul/Feyd-Rautha fight. So usually if you have a big fight scene, but especially if you do something like have a character get injured in a way that would definitely be fatal if they weren't cursed with inescapable Main Character Energy, you follow up the fight scene with some moment of comfort or relief or something, which serves to release the tension for the audience and let them know whew, that was scary, but it's okay now. Your character is hurt but they're gonna survive. (Or alternately, if they're dying heroically, it was worth it and what the narrative demanded.)

But here there's nothing. Paul is surrounded by devoted followers; his mother; his lover; one of his oldest teachers and a loyal servant of House Atreides. No one steps forward to offer a shoulder to lean on or help him to his feet. He's left them all behind. He's not a person who got hurt in a fight anymore; he's a myth that people shrink back from. So he pulls the knife out by himself. He stands up by himself. Other than the emperor very begrudgingly touching his hand to kiss the ring, I don't think anyone touches him at all for the rest of the movie. He's completely alone. They never release that tension, because Paul's alive but it is very much not going to be okay.